


lovebites in the twilight

by khattikeri



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Kissing, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Trapped In A Closet, i genuinely do not know what this out of context degeneracy is. just take it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khattikeri/pseuds/khattikeri
Summary: "Prove it," Ouma whispered, not moving a muscle. "Show me you'd be fine with me."
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Oma Kokichi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 138





	lovebites in the twilight

**Author's Note:**

> me: i'm taking a break from writing after this longfic, thank you guys for your support!  
> me, not even a full 24 hours later: 
> 
> i've been sitting on this oumota piece for a bit. there's pieces of depth here and there but i really do not have it in me to expand on the intricacies to rivals to lovers and on both of their personalities and insecurities despite how much i love their characters and relationship and PFFBBTTBBGBBTBBFH. so there won't be any expansion. it's just them making out and being fake-deep because of their respective complexes. sue me. 
> 
> ANYWAY! please ignore how cringey the title sounds. hh really hope closet makeout fics don't become a trademark of mine

Being trapped in a closet with Ouma seemed like a cliche straight out of one of Shirogane's shitty fanfictions, but here Momota was anyway.

It had been the damn brat's fault to begin with, messing around and then accidentally causing the door to slam shut. They'd yelled, tossed insults, then sulked independently, with only dust bunnies, old boxes, and musty, yellow light keeping them company.

(Of all people, why did it have to be the rival he wasn't sure anymore how to hate?)

This just wouldn't do. Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars, was not the type of person who could just stay cooped up in a dinky little closet. He shifted, then grit his teeth to bear responsibility. "Ouma," he called out to the other boy first.

"Hm?" Ouma replied. "What is it, Momota-chan? Trying for a truce now that you know we're both gonna die here alone and penniless?"

He was so goddamn _annoying,_ and for what? 

Momota's teeth gnashed against each other. "No. Tryin' to get the fuck outta here."

"We won't!" Ouma's legs were propped up against a shelf, swinging back and forth while he stared at the ceiling. "We're gonna turn into icky ugly skeletons and some other hapless group of sixteen teenagers will show up fifty-three years later and scream when they open the door and see our rotting, decomposed skeletons. Isn't it awful?"

"We are _not,"_ Momota grit out, "gonna die. Can you get up for a minute 'n just try to help?" 

Ouma hardly spared a glance at him before returning to doing nothing. "You're still lying down against the wall. Why should a supreme leader take orders from some ditzy astronaut who isn't even a real astronaut yet?"

It was a dig at him and he knew it; Momota took the bait anyway. "In-training or not, I'm a goddamn astronaut, and you don't have an actual group backing your ridiculous talent either," he seethed. "Now get up and help so that we can at least get the others to find us if we can't break the door open ourselves."

The aging yellow lightbulb above them flickered, then swayed on, held onto the ceiling by a lone string. 

"What if we're never found?" Ouma posited, eyes wide and doll-like, and suddenly Momota realized the other boy was blinking down at him, stars and sparks reflected in his irises. He'd gotten up from his spot against the shelf and chosen to sit directly on top of Momota, shimmying a little on his lap. Momota bit his lip, swallowing both an embarrassing squeak and the small draw of blood he'd gotten for it. "What if none of them find us here and we're both condemned to be locked in a closet for life?"

"That's bullshit and you know it," Momota croaked back, shifting til his back hit the wall and there was nowhere else for him to go but towards Ouma. "And even if I were stuck with you, I'd be fine."

"Prove it," Ouma whispered, not moving a muscle. "Show me you'd be fine with me." 

(Instinctively, Momota knew Ouma wasn't just talking about being locked in with him.) 

For all his cowardice and propensity for tall tales, Momota was never one to back down from a challenge.

He reached out almost immediately, gripping onto Ouma's waist, and then brought one of his hands to wander up underneath Ouma's shirt.

Ouma's breath hitched, his body more honest and reactionary than any of the carefully crafted words he could've said. Momota traced his warm, worn fingertips barely above Ouma's ice-cold skin; the difference in temperature fascinated him almost as much as the blush setting itself on Ouma's face.

"Perv," Ouma muttered, and then pressed his own hands over Momota's, guiding them back outside his clothes in between kisses on the lips. 

It made Momota want to laugh. Ouma was always needing to nitpick, unintentionally being a supreme leader even with small things like this by subtly controlling the fine-tuned details while making it look like he wasn't just being a stubborn little minx about it.

 _He's a hell of a realist,_ Momota thought to himself, and it frustrated him how even when it was right there, in all obviousness in front of Ouma's face, the other boy was still unwilling to face the possibility that the most ideal outcome was possible. It was fully possible and in fact _true_ that Ouma Kokichi was wanted, that he was loved, and that there was no need for some depressing, realistic sacrifices.

"You're just too much of a dreamer," Ouma clicked his tongue in annoyance, and before Momota could even process that he'd said it all aloud, Ouma leaned down and bit at the shell of his ear. 

"Hiieek!" Momota lets out a small shriek, jerking his body; Ouma tightened his grip on Momota's shoulder and only snickered, burying his face in the crook of Momota's neck as some plywood beside them toppled over. "What the fuuuuck," Momota groaned. "You crafty..."

"Devilish, aren't I?" Ouma licked his lips in a grin. "Being a tease where you can't be seen is what it's all about."

The lightbulb above them flickered again, and Momota got an idea. "Where it can't be seen, eh?" he murmured, slowly unraveling Ouma's scarf. "This okay with you?"

Ouma blinked at him, then narrowed his eyes. "How blasé. You could stand to be less boring about it."

"Consent's 'mportant," Momota scowled, twisting the bandana cloth around his fingers. Idly, he thought about how hot it might be to bind Ouma's wrists. Maybe even gag him; he'd entertained a thought or twenty-eight about getting him to shut up. But he decided against actually doing any of it.

Ouma only hummed.

Momota leaned closer. "If you really don't like it, you can tap my arm twice. Other 'n that... you're free to lie."

Ouma opened his mouth to question him or maybe retort; the lighting wasn't great, but one thing was for certain: when Momota's lips and teeth latched onto Ouma's neck, the other boy had definitely not been expecting it.

Ouma's skin was soft; the hitched breaths and tiny mewls and muffled gasps with every lick and bite did wonders for Momota's self esteem. Much to Momota's surprise, Ouma wasn't as loud as he'd expected-- in fact, he was so quiet that Momota wouldn't have been able to hear him had he not been right there. Ouma did lie every now and then, crying out as if in pain only to say it was a joke, but for the most part, he reveled in Momota's ministrations. 

"S-Stop," Ouma squirmed, tapping Momota's arm twice. "I mean it, this is--"

Ouma let out a shaky breath as Momota stopped. "Had enough?" Momota asked. Ouma pinched him hard; Momota yelped. "The fuck was that for?!"

"Stupid space idiot," Ouma muttered, clambering off to look at his own poor reflection through a shelved glass container. He turned this way and that way, as if admiring the bruises littering his neck. "Not everyone has as much stamina as you."

Just then, a noise came from outside; Ouma quickly snatched up his scarf and tied it up around his neck.

"You two were in _here?"_ Kiibo put his hands on his hips as he opened the door. The light around him would've looked like a halo of salvation to the Momota from ten minutes ago, but the Momota now could only view the brightness outside as a nuisance in the moment. "Stop goofing around!"

"We were legit trapped, dude," Momota sighed, brushing off his knees to stand up.

"Oh, really?" Kiibo retorted, folding his arms in front of him. "Please don't lie to me, Momota-kun. I may not know everything about my classmates, but everyone is fully aware that Ouma-kun can pick locks. You pretended to be locked in here to shirk your duties!"

"Huh...?" _Wait a fucking minute--_

Momota whirled around, but Ouma had already escaped.

_...Goddamn it._

Kiibo tapped his foot impatiently. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing,” Momota laughed to himself, walking past Kiibo. “Don’t worry about it.”

_He got me._

**Author's Note:**

> absolute debauchery. what is my life coming to...
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated! follow me on tumblr/twitter/insta @khattikeri for more danganronpa content!


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